


Waking Up Beside You (I'm A Loaded Gun)

by The13thClassicDisaster



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: Actor!Sebastian Stan, BAMF!Reader, Because I'm not American, Existential Crisis, F/M, I understand meetcute only vaguely, Impala, Inaccurate Geography, MeetCute, More tags when we need it k, Roadtrip, because why the hell not, but only kind of, so suck it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thClassicDisaster/pseuds/The13thClassicDisaster
Summary: An existential road trip, an Impala, a pair of boots named Buckle and Roots, creepy remote villages, apple picking, under the star kissing, and then coming back home was not how Sebastian Stan thought his little adventure would go.OrMeetcute-ish kinda thing where reader meets Seb literally down the road and they road trip to "find themselves" but end up finding each other too, and... problems, for lack of a better word.





	1. UTAH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloooo famalam! This is what I'd like to call a "wrote this as a break from what I should be writing" fic because the other series is just eating my brain. This one is a little less artsy so I guess I could do it back to back with the other one but weyhey cie la vie
> 
> (Honestly this is just a peace offering because I can't update the other fic I'm sorry I love u enjoy)

To Sebastian, this didn't feel like a very good idea.

 

Not that a lot of ideas that actually regarded him as a person, and not an actor, was any good these days. 

 

Which is why he's standing beside an old, hopeless car in the middle of nowhere, still mindful that the last city he's passed was Green River, Utah, but he's unfamiliar to the surroundings, his luggage already standing dutifully beside him as he left his hands up on his hips. 

 

It wasn't even an advise he'd gotten from a close friend, a fellow actor, some well-known showbiz life coach, hell not even from his make up artist— it was just from a homeless man he'd offered a steaming cup of coffee to during a very odd sudden rainfall that basically no New Yorker was prepared for that day. The man had looked at him; he felt it as he'd also offered him his company within an alleyway where the only ones who could see him were the alleycats and moss growing between the older bricks, or maybe hollow blocks, of the walls that birthed the alley. He waits for him to speak, knows he would, having had all too many times when you would weigh a new person's arrival as to whether they would be an ally or not (that's how the grittier side of showbiz worked, everyone knew that), and what he says was not something he'd expected. "You're tired."

 

Sebastian had laughed his surprised, bit back the 'no shit' that glided over his tongue as he was suddenly conscious if the bags under his eyes were showing more now in the grey of the pour. "Yeah,"

 

"No, I don't mean your body, kid. You're too young to be tired by your body." The old man chuckles. 

 

Instincts kick in, and his hindbrain hastily supplies that this man was weird. He thinks he should go, but knows better than to soak himself fifteen blocks away from his apartment. "What do you mean then?" He humours, mostly for the sake of his own mind that that of a conversation. 

 

The man smiles at the surface of his still steaming coffee, before making a careful sip. "You're... You're a kind man, that much I'm sure of,"

 

Sebastian furrows his brows, looks at the man fully, before turning away again. He sips his coffee. He waits.

 

The man needs no more prompting and continues. "But even the kindest man needs a break or his kindness wears thin, and he'd let everyone else drive his hard earned right to choose," 

 

Eccentricities were things that definitely made a star, and Sebastian knew many who even made some habits up just to kiss up to that ass, but mysteriousness wasn't very much his type, as he's learned through the years, and the riddles the homeless dude spoke was really getting frustrating. "Maybe in a sentence I can understand?" He offers kindly, more a reflex now that an actual voluntary alteration to how he'd usually speak to someone. He guesses he's just wanted to make fans happy all too many times he forgot how to stop. He wonders if that's a good or a bad thing.

 

The old man turns, faces him fully, and smiles. Lines became prominent on his face, Sebastian sees, but his eyes were clear, and his smile was bright, and sue him, this man looked, well, not tired at all. "The first chance you get, you get the hell out of here. Fly if you have to, go somewhere you don't know, somewhere you'll learn something, let yourself take roots again before you try growing some more." He said, thanks him with his eyes for the coffee, and passes him, right out the end of the alley into the pouring rain.

 

By the time Sebastian jogged after him, he was gone, and the sky had cleared.

 

So here he is, feeling ridiculous that he'd gotten on a road trip, but instead of choosing a nice wagon for the event, or at least taking his own Chevy, he'd gotten one that would surely die in the middle of nowhere, thinking that what the hell? Go big or go home right?

 

"Wrong," he grumbles to himself, getting impatient as he walked back and forth around the old timer, sighing as he noticed the car had stopped smoking, but showed no sign of life anymore. Thing was, he could wait a couple hours longer, he knows how the whole hitchhiking thing works, but he knows it'll be just a few more moments left to the odds that he'd either be recognized and the whole affair would be a waste, or the clouds that were darkening over head would finally break down on him. What's with him and rain these days?

 

Just his luck, probably.

 

He sighs and leans against the hood of the car, somberly wishes that he'd brought with him at least one pack of smokes. Deciding against it sounded great earlier before setting sail, because the full experience in submerging yourself into the unknown right? 

 

"Like I said, wrong, goddamnit." 

 

He stays like that for what felt like an eternity, before a car came down the road, showing interest in him, slowing before stopping in front of him. It was a beat up sports car of some sort, top down, the upholstery showing signs of near tattering, the exterior dented some. Sebastian nods politely at the driver. 

 

"Where'd ya headed man?" The guy asks, full rocker heard, like Mick Jagger, maybe? But instead of long, dark hair, the man's head was an awful half-assed version of a Mohawk that looked like they'd used grass-cutting shears on him. Sebastian cringes internally.

 

"Uh, north," he answers simply. He didn't think that specifying he wasn't aiming for somewhere was the safest bet with this man, but time was running, if the tiny raindrops that were now coming down was a sign. "Can I hitch?" He asks.

 

The man looks at him behind his tacky purple tinted shades, before pulling them down, only to stare at his face for a really long time. Sebastian resists the urge to flinch away, or break the contact because seriously, he needs a damn ride. 

 

Finally the man grins, exposing yellowing teeth, before nodding his agreement. "Sure thing, hotshot. Haul your stuff in and we can roll," he says. He slurred a little, in Sebastian's head. Maybe he's high? He prays the man was not. 

 

"Thanks, man." He grins small, before he starts picking up his luggage. Willing himself to move fast since he didn't want his seemingly good Samaritan to wait too long, he heaves both bags swiftly after tossing his messenger over his head. 

 

Then faster than he could take another step, a car hits the back of his hitch's 'sportscar', causing him to jump back ten feet in the air. 

 

He doesn't register things fast enough, but he knows the hit wasn't all that bad, simply causing another dent to the many the guy already had, but he's sure that his bleeding nose was another deal. He hears the man scream profanities that would shame the Pope himself before getting out of his beat up mobile, holding a fucking glock. 

 

"Holy shit," Sebastian gasps to himself, stepping back. He wanted an adventure, not a goddamn thriller. Tom Sawyer didn't see dead floating bodies in the river, for fuck's sake.

 

Then the driver's side of the Impala that drove itself against the beat up wagon (which was such a damn waste because the car was on a way respectable level than the whatchamacallit it rigged) opens, and the driver herself decided to meet his hitch halfway with a— holy fucking shit is that a shotgun!? "Hey," she greeted cheerily, eyes behind black Elvis shades, resting daintily over rosy cheeks and a damn cute button nose. Though that didn't do much to sway the intimidation this woman possessed while gripping a shotgun like the hunt of the week, and looking like she could damn well kill them both without even firing the gun. "Do we have a problem here, compadre?" She asks sweetly, betraying the look she had on.

 

Mohawk-Mick obviously was sober enough to notice the lady would take no bullshit and quickly slipped his hand-holding gun behind his back and smiles distastefully at her. "Nah, nothin' wrong here toots, just, y'know," he slurs, looking regretfully at Sebastian's luggage. "Leavin'," he finishes and gives another of his atrocious grins and yeah, Sebastian really does think he's very gross. Mohawk-Mick lumbers back into his car, shoots Shotgun Suzie a dirty look encased in a paperthin smile, before pulling away much faster than Sebastian thought his car would be capable of doing. Then the rain starts pouring.

 

"Shit," he hisses to himself, not really in the mood to wait in the rain for another ride since Shotgun Suzie scared off his ride out of it. Before he could speak the disorganization of his thoughts, she talks. "Get in, or I'm leaving you." Before walking back to her Impala and sliding in like silk back into her seat and shutting the door. 

 

Sebastian would have told her that being in a car with a potentially dangerous person wasn't the best idea, but he didn't have much of a choice when the engine starts.

 

At least she looked sober.

 

×××

 

"Didn't your mother teach you not to talk to strangers?" You ask your accidental passenger as you pulled off your shades, throwing them haphazardly over the dashboard. You still couldn't believe how absolutely dumb this man was. Ridiculously good looking, but dumb. A pretty fucking good actor, but dumb. 

 

You glance at him to see that he's pretty much gawking at you, but thankfully his jaw wasn't hanging like a loose end. Rolling your eyes, you turn the windshield wipers on, trying to relax into the upholstery of your now also accidentally injured child (car). "Well she did, and since I'm here talking to you, I obviously am not a very good listener." He says. "And I mean, if you wanted a chance passenger, you really didn't need to dent your car." An obvious attempt at charming humour, which okay you didn't need to get reminded that he possessed because you've seen enough interviews on YouTube and the internet. But you're not obsessed. You're just, er, interested. Very, very, interested. And now he's in your passenger seat out in Utah, of all the romantic getaways in the world.

 

You groan loudly, wanting to bang your head against the steering wheel but thought better of it since you didn't want to end up crashing and dying. It wasn't currently on your to do list, but then again, so was this. "You didn't notice? Seriously? Dude, I knew what he was gonna do from a mile away, and you're just what? Gonna hitchhike a ride with a druggie who's on who knows what, with expensive looking luggage and an expensive looking face? Seriously?" You ask, more and more annoyed at the idea. You glance at him again, and fucking finally, the idea seemed to dawn on him.

 

"It was 'bout to rain," he mumbles in defense, although he did look more like a scolded child that a stubborn man. Which is, as much as you hated to admit it, pretty dang cute.

 

"Yeah and I'm 'bout to die, but you don't see me saving kits from fires, yeah?" You reply sarcastically. "Look," you soften up, your blood pressure slowly lowering to normalcy as the drive lulled you into a more relaxed state. "I didn't mean to snap at ya or somethin', but the world really is hella nasty, regardless of how optimistic you are. That's just the truth. So you gotta be careful, man. Just cause you're a little desperate doesn't mean you go following the next person that comes along." You sigh, breathing out real slow to get the pumped up nerves to just settle the fuck down because girl you ain't in the mood for anymore side quest adventures. 

 

Sebastian Stan sighs as well, but it sounded similar to yours, just breathing for relaxation. It was a pretty good sign that he didn't think you were some loon who took in hitchers just to scold them for fun, especially when saving people's asses by sacrificing your most beloved child (car) was no where near fun for you. "Yeah, sorry," he says, and you feel his eyes on you. "And thanks," he adds, letting you hear the smile in his voice. 

Stupid actors and their knack of getting stupidly charming. 

 

"Yeah, yeah. Where you headed anyway?" You ask, knowing that there's probably a city coming soon, and Utah wasn't exactly all that big. A little more over the next mark, you'd be leaving the state. What did Sebastian even do here? Weren't stars supposed to stay in the City of Angels or The Big Apple or something?

 

He snorts more to himself than to you, and you hear the squeak of the leather upholstery of your passenger seat against his leather jacket. "Wish I knew," he responds and you raise a brow at the wet road ahead.

 

"You lost?" You ask, turning right as the road curved before adding "Or you trynna be?"

 

There's a pause, and you wonder if that was even gonna get considered as a personal question and Sebastian Stan would get chalked up to your "Hot But Nuts" actors list, which up until now didn't exist since you've never really had a chance to meet an actor in real life. Really, you get lost in between supermarket aisles, how does the world even expect you to meet a favourite actor? But before your internal rambling can get too out of hand, Sebastian replies. "Yeah," he chuckles and woah that's a damn nice sound. "Yeah, that's basically what I'm aiming for right here." He finishes, before leaning against more towards the car door, something passenger side people loved to do when they wanted to assess their drivers, and you're very well versed to this shift because your gay ass brother loved to do this when he wants to spill the thickest gossip down on you like you cared (sometimes you do, sometimes you just like him talking). When the question comes, you were already half ready with your answer. "What gave you the idea I did?"

 

"Other than the utter desperation to hitch a ride with someone who's higher than the sun when you can just call a tow service?" You tease with a grin and he mocks laughter beside you before chuckling again. "Yeah, no. Just... It wouldn't have occurred to me as a possibility if I wasn't in the same boat. Er, car." You shrug.

 

You can tell Sebastian was interested and a part of you wants to keep him interested until you get that grey shirt off and get at least a little handsy over those abs, while a more logical part basically just wanted some human interaction after days without one. "Why'd you sail this way then, Captain?" He asks in good humour.

 

"Was feeling pretty lost long before I even decided to take to the sea, matey." You laugh lightly. "Like, everything was good, but that was all it was, I realized. It was just good. Nothing ridiculously bad happened, not that I wanted anything to, but nothing changed either. I wasn't... Growing." You shrug, to make it look casual and not dramatic. This wasn't a damn audition, 'kay? "What about you?"

 

He nods beside you and trains his eyes towards the road as well. "Kinda the same. More towards the fact that I don't really wanna end up losing myself to the pressure." He tells you, obviously treading the topic about him being mob-magnetic. You understood the point, really.

 

"Always thought that fame is just a side effect to doing what you love, y'know. Like, it's not the goal, the goal is being who want to be, changing perspectives, sharing your artistry, that sort of shit. And like any side effect, y'all just gotta deal with it. Adjust to the terms and conditions of fandoms, right?" You smirk, glancing at him again before back onto the road. You see the next welcome sign, Moab, and decide that it was high time you got gas. 

 

Sebastian doesn't speak again as you entered the city, and you think that that was that so you don't try to bridge the silence. Then he speaks again. "No one's said it the way you did before, y'know. You got it pretty good to be honest, nailed it on the head." He laughs to himself and you grin small.

 

"I like getting nailed and I'm pretty good at giving head too," you joke, and you're glad it delivers well because he laughs just right.

 

"I'll remember that." 

 

There's comfortable silence after, as you weaved your way through the greyed out landscape of the city whose name you already forgot, before turning into the drive of a gasoline station. Thank God they had a roof. 

 

"I'm Sebastian," you almost choke yourself by jumping as you removed your seatbelt from the surprise of him talking again. "Shit, sorry," he laughs. 

 

Would've been a well appreciated laugh too, if not for the fact your heart currently can't decide whether it wanted to stop beating or beat Usain Bolt's record spead for beats per second. Clutching your chest as you threw your head back with a puff of breath, you shake your head. "Fucking hell, Sebastian." You grunt before settling back down. "I'm (Y/N) and please refrain from doing that again, I peed my pants a little." You chuckle, before shaking hands with the man and wow, nice hand. You wonder where else this hand could get into. You wonder if you should tell him you already knew his name, but thought better of it. You're both practically trying to find who you are, maybe for different reasons, but you want him to show you how he wants to be seen, and not who he's been shown to be, so you just let it go.

 

As you turned to get out of the car and load up your baby girl, he stops you again. "So... Are we..?" He asks.

 

Deciding to tease him some more, you smile. "I don't fuck on the first date, darling." You say sweetly.

 

"I do, though." He grins back and you laugh.

 

"You're an idiot," you say and swat his forehead before getting out of the car. He follows after you, hearing another door open and close as you got about the business in getting your child's tank full. 

 

You feel him sidle up beside you as you let the numbers roll. "But are we really gonna be going together? Or should I get an Über?" He asks.

 

Laughing, you turn to him as the numbers rolled. "You can hang as long as you don't vomit in my child because I'm going to fucking kill you myself. Regardless of how famous, fantastic, and sexy you are." You tell him resolutely, remembering the sting of having resorted to ramming your child onto the poor dying wagon the junkie drove, but time was of the essence and intimidation was key, plus your baby was strong, she could take it.

 

You know he found it funny that you treated your car like your baby, but that's just how it is, so he can suck it up. "I'm gonna pay for the damages," he tells you when you return the gas nozzle where it came from.

 

"You don't need to." You tell him flatly, before walking towards the conveniently attached convenience store to the gas station— did you mention it was convenient?

 

"I want to." 

 

"Let me rephrase: I don't want you to."

 

"That's not stopping me." 

 

"Ugh!" You growl at him, turning in the convenience store aisle you find yourselves in. "Let it go, man."

 

"Nope. We're buddies now. We split. You save my ass, I pay for the damages." He says stubbornly.

 

You resort to just forcefully grabbing some shitty milk tea from the fridge, a couple chips, and two chocolate bars. You two probably looked like idiots while he tailed you all around the store, but thankfully, the cashier was bored out of his mind at the moment to even bother looking at you both. "Well?" You ask. "You ain't grabbing some shit? Might take us a while to get to someplace we could crash." 

 

"You curse like a sailor, anyone told you that?" He grins at you before doing just that and you sigh. Honestly, you didn't know just what you were getting yourself into.

 

Cashing out, you ignored the amount of food he actually got, and just pulled out your wallet, but it's plucked out of your hands. "Oh hell no, you don't. You're not—" 

 

"Already paid, babe." He grins proudly as the cashier ignored them, just scanning everything away, his card already slotted into the machine.

 

"Sebastian you can't just— I don't need you to—"

 

"I pay now, you pay for later. Great deal?" He offers and you sigh loud and dramatic before stomping your ass out of there and out back to your baby. It's not that you wanna look like a damn drama queen but you just met the man, and as much as you're glad that chivalry is yet to die, it didn't feel right letting someone just pay for your shit. That's your boyfriend's job, if you had one. You don't, and that's kind of the point.

 

Getting into your car, you didn't have to wait too long for him to come back with the bags, before you both buckled up in silence. "Did I offend you?" He asks, and God why did he have to be so charming?

 

"I'm just dramatic and awkward because you paid for the food. Now shush." You tell him, leaning back as you backed out of the gas station to get a better angle to pull out of it. 

 

You sigh as you get back on the road, relaxing your shoulders, and wiggling your fingers as they gripped the wheel. The rain has stopped and all its left behind was wet cement and petrichor in the air. "So," you say, pulling back your shades on as the 2:00 PM sunshine came back out, glancing briefly and grinning at your new friend. "Let's get this party started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think so I don't feel like I'm talking to myself (God knows I've done that waaaaaay too much already) or maybe kudos? Idk man, u do u.
> 
> All the sarcastic love,  
> ~The Wolf


	2. COLORADO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went through absolutely no editing, the words that should be italicized were not translated from my source format to here because tehcnology and I'll get to it when it's no longer 5 in the morning, and I was so wrong in thinking that I'd actually be able to publish something less than a thousand words per chapter *cue tears* oh well.

_****"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing." —Hellen Keller_

 

xxx

 

It wasn’t too far from Moab (he saw the exit sign, if he hadn’t he would never have known) when Sebastian began to doubt the driver he’s got cheerfully bobbing her head to the intro of “Smoke On the Water” by Deep Purple.

 

He honestly wasn’t all that surprised when she turned on the radio and rock music of all forms came in to flood the comfortable confines of the car. It was the volume, he assumed, that allowed him to feel no annoyance towards Shotgun Suzie, as he still liked to call her in his head. It was nowhere near obnoxiously loud, nor too soft that it was nothing but a thrum close to that of her pretty Impala’s engine (the car honestly was something akin to lovely, with its rose-gold faux leather upholstery to the warm coppery brown accents, even if it looked like a total Big Boy car from the outside); the music was just right that it managed to sift through his memories and he’d unconsciously murmur out the choruses of some that he knew and she’d glance with a knowing smile before training her eyes back on the road. He had a great driver, really he did, and maybe if they stuck together longer, they just might strike conversational gold, but for the most part, the Romanian man chose the music. He thought he’d start talking once they get to the next city, but when Shotgun Suzie starts rummaging underneath her seat with a precision he knows could only be the product of practice, his mind stalls. He watches as she pulls out a bottle of pills, rattling in that consoling but discordant way, opening it with her wrists guiding the wheel, before popping two of the blue coloured pills into her mouth, dry swallowing.

 

Like he said, she only looked sober.

 

xxx

 

You know that he saw you took them, and you’re trying really, really hard not to flinch defensively from the question that was so glaringly obvious from the tension beneath a Bon Jovi classic. You’re glad for the music, because if you had to take them while talking, it would be worse than this. 

 

Instead of going out of your way to bridge the gap between the two of you with a dumbass joke or a lame-ass question, any question that your stupid brain could get ahold of at the moment, you stomp down on all the distressful communication first-aid society had heavily engraved into your bones and decide to drive a little faster to get to the next town. Technically, you didn’t have a plan, and by the gospel truth, even Satan knows you’ve never been good at them, so there was really no knowledge of what city was coming up next. You bypassed the sign that would have welcomed you to Montrose, Colorado, and stepped the pedal to the metal. It wasn’t time to go home yet for the 9 to 5 people, so there weren’t too many cars on the road that you could get into a billiard game with for going on a hundred miles per hour, so it was safe. You just had to concentrate.

 

Xxx

 

Regretfully, Sebastian dug his blunt fingernails into the faux leather upholstery of his driver’s car as his eyes uncontrollably strained to watch as her speedometer went on a steady rise.

 

He really didn’t want to die on a supposed road trip headed to God knows where when he didn’t bother telling anyone about his whereabouts.

 

When she reached a hundred in a mostly desolate road, Sebastian was already praying to die a painless death before speaking. “I- I think we should head into a city yeah? Colorado’s got some pretty beautiful forests.” He says, attempting to keep his voice leveled as much as he could.

 

Shotgun Suzie doesn’t notice the stuttering, he thinks, and nods thoughtfully as she slowed the gears down some to take a right and finally get somewhere other than a road. Well, a concrete road anyway, because after a little while (time felt fast but hard, and he blames her for it), they find themselves in between grooves of thick, shady trees, in both senses of the word, on a wide dirt road that could definitely fit two fair sized cargo trucks. Like those that carried Twinkies? Yeah. She’s slowed down a fair bit now but still too fast for someone driving on a dirt road, but Sebastian already felt like a deer caught in the headlights, and was currently trying to find a way to escape, and the forest that was currently surrounding them definitely didn’t provide any open opportunities for departures.

 

That was until they almost hit a moose, and Sebastian just lost it.

 

xxx

 

It was too late to realize that you’ve gone and worked yourself into a panic.

 

You couldn’t ever call it a panic attack because you can still hold on to the current situation and not lose all your footing, but you do lose some. For a lapse in your consciousness your brain goes on autopilot and you momentarily stop thinking, until something pulls you back. For example, a big ass moose that you almost plowed to the ground as if your child was a male porn star ready to drive it home.

 

“HOLY SHIT!” you jump as he practically shrieked. You hear the squeak of your passenger seat as the poor man was probably literally pushed up against the wall (or the passenger seat) by almost turning the moose into this weekend’s barbecue and wall décor.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant as the big animal stared at the vehicle, as if it barely acknowledge the fact that it had halted its own death, before walking away. “Holy fucking—“

 

“That’s it!” you jump and turn your head incredulously towards Sebastian as he shoves a thumb down on his seatbelt lock and undoes it haphazardly. “Open the door, I’m getting out.” He practically barks.

 

Okay, so on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even think twice about just lifting the central lock and letting the man haul every bit of himself right out of your baby girl and off to wherever the hell he fucking pleases, but you didn’t like his tone so you decide to argue. “What? Sebastian we’re in the middle of nowhere.” You attempt to state calmly.

 

He doesn’t even try to calm himself, obviously worked up about something other than the moose you almost ran over. Pulling the lock up brusquely on the passenger side door, he pushes the door open and slides out. “Yeah, well I’d rather take my fucking chance in this goddamned forest than get an assured death inside your metal deathtrap!” he yells as he walks around the car and into the trunk where he’d thrown his luggage. 

 

Oh, no he did not.

 

He did not just call your sweet little girl a metal death trap.

 

You knew that he knew well enough that the controls to open the damn trunk was within the driver’s side of the car and for a second you sat there feeling smug, until you hear something hitting against the trunk and you zero in on the side mirror to see Sebastian Fucking Stan kicking your car.

 

Okay, this is where you draw the damn line.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss as you marched right out of your gorgeous vehicle that has had more than enough beatings from a certain Hollywood celebrity gone nutso loco over the past hour.

 

You’d gone and flipped the lock to open the trunk as you went, so even if he flinched, the brunette continued hauling his bags out of your car. Good riddance, is what that shit is. “Me!?” he asks incredulously, albeit there’s a slow slurry of fear beneath those grey-blue slates gems he calls eyes and you try not to get distracted.

 

Girl, you’re mad. Come on and give this bastard a verbal whooping, regardless of how attractive he is.

 

“You’re the hypocrite here, man. You come ‘round and pretend like you’re all good and right and then you’re no better!” he starts going at you again and this is exactly why you don’t enjoy keeping contact with anyone you help. Sure, getting thanked is always a welcomed thought, but some people don’t have much of a mind in their heads sometimes.

 

You stare at him flatly for a second because here’s another idiot who skipped questions and went right into the judging you part. Boy, did you enjoy this kind of people. So you sigh when he finally grabs all of his things out of your trunk and you approach him, seeing him flinch and for a brief moment you wonder why someone who has almost a full foot height advantage on you would be so scared of what you do, but remember that you’ve got your uncle’s shotgun stashed in your girl. It calms you a bit, and also gives you a little (and well-deserved) satisfaction. “I’m not gonna come back for you. I am not going to turn my baby and stop anything or anyone killing you. So,” you sigh. Mom always taught you to at least give someone a moment to compose themselves before dropping the final verdict. “Last call; you in or you out?”

 

“I’d rather get eaten by the moose you almost ran over.” Sebastian answers with a frown and you lift a hand to punch him but thought better and just stalked back to the driver’s seat with a growl.

 

A door slam, an engine revved, and an old song your dad used to sing to you to bed after, Sebastian was no longer in sight from your rearview mirror.

 

“I hope to God I never see him again.”

 

xxx

 

Apparently God was busy today, because as Sebastian lounged in the quaint diner a few miles down the road where Shotgun Suzie (he already forgot her name, and he doesn’t feel sorry about it), her shiny Impala comes rolling down into the garage right beside the diner and he groans into the spoonful of the chicken pot pie he’d ordered. The elderly waitress turns to him and smiles sweetly. “You okay there dearie? Told you that thing’s a little hot,” she says, heavy with an accent, nice with the warmth. 

 

“Uh, yeah, yes ma’am, sorry, I’m kind of hungry.” He lies only slightly, smiling politely at the waitress, before turning away a bit to try and hide himself from Shotgun Suzie as she stepped out of the garage to speak with the mechanic. 

 

He notices slowly that the woman had gone and shed her oversized plaid shirt and was now only wearing a light gray tank top that showed how heavily she’d sweat through the past couple hours they’d been apart and wondered what the heck had happened to her car, and additionally, why the odds seemed to be hell-bent on keeping them together when clearly all they wanted to do was to be kept apart.

 

Returning his gaze toward the woman, he watches her nod along to what the mechanic was saying, as if they were agreeing on something, and then squats down in front of the glass paneled front of the diner and sighs. Sebastian blames his clear vision when he sees a bead of sweat race down the side of Shotgun Suzie’s neck, pooling for a moment on the dip of her collar bone, before disappearing right beneath the threateningly low neckline of her tank top. Sebastian wonders momentarily what kind of tang her sweat would have once he’s got his mouth in places—“You want another glass of lemonade dearie?” the elderly waitress pops back up beside him, and he blushes at the speed of how he whipped his head back to look down on his plate, before stammering a confirmation, smiling once again at his pleasant server. She moves her eyes elsewhere then, locking down on an unmistakable head of long hair and air of reckless abandon Shotgun Suzie had and fucking smirks. “Well she is quite the sight. But I do recommend speaking to her before eye-fucking the sweet little thing.” She says so casually that Sebastian sputters into his glass of lemonade and wasn’t able to get a word in as she already faded back into the kitchen.

 

Unwilling to come face to face with Shotgun Suzie again, Sebastian promptly accepts the offer of the waitress to be their day’s food guinea pig, since they’ve been cooking up some new pastries, she said. This one made the Romanian man ask how much customers came in here daily, because “As nice as it is, it’s kinda in the middle of nowhere?” and all he got in response was a tight smile and a peaches and cream waffle sample that he obediently dug into instead of getting another stare down. He looks up every now and then to check if the back bumper of the Impala had disappeared when he wasn’t looking, but it was still there, and Shotgun Suzie was still inside the garage with the mechanic for some reason or another.

 

xxx

 

You never did like going to the mechanic. Your gay brother always bitched at you about how weird it is that you came and ‘visited’ the car if you ever were not able to fix whatever problem she had, and always your answer was the car was like your kid, and you were just doing what any parent would do when their kid is sick.

 

Except the Impala is a car, and at the mechanic’s and not the hospital.

 

But regardless of the specifics, and how your brother just called you nutso loco all the time, you couldn’t get out of the habit, even to this day, where you sat back and watched the elderly mechanic of some random town in the middle of the more foresty areas in Colorado tinker under the hood of your darling daughter.

 

To your utter misfortune, the hit against the earlier encounter had given your baby a worse run for her money than you assumed and not half an hour later into the drive of In the Middle Of Nowhere, Colorado, she’d gone and gave a smoke signal for help. Due to the bad cell reception, you decided to just go and push your car  along the rest of the way, until you get help, or the dark comes in on you to force you into your vehicle to try again in the morning. Luck had it that the old mechanic—Richard or Charlie, was it? Was just coming back from another town after getting supplies and towed you and her back to this peaceful, yet still relatively shady town. Still no cell reception, but you had to hand it to him, dude knew what he was doing.

 

“You sure you don’t want this bit to get fixed up? Only gonna take a little over a day for me to buff it out and paint it good as new.” He says and you smile politely at him.

 

“No sir, thank you. I’m on a road trip, and wanna keep the souvenirs I get. At least until I finish and head back home.”

 

He nods as he wiped his hands in the dirtied rag he’s been using all day. “Well you’re awfully polite, young lady.” He smiles behind his lumberman beard. “Haven’t had proper respect from people your age for quite some time,” he says thoughtfully and clears his throat. “Anyway, you can go pay inside the diner, I’m just gonna go clean up. I’m pretty sure Mary’s done some good food in there, by the smell of it. Might wanna grab yourself a bite before you go.” He tells you.

 

Obviously charmed by the old guy, you agree and bring your satchel into the diner with you and stiffen at the sight of Sebastian stuffing his mouth with some pie that smelled like raspberries while tapping furiously at his phone, playing some game too tiny in the screen to discern. He hasn’t noticed you yet, what with the lack of the obnoxious bell that would have usually rung overhead in most diners you’ve visited your whole life, so you decide to pretend that you didn’t notice him either so that your exit would flow much more smoothly. 

 

You approach the counter, just when, thankfully, an elderly woman came out from the kitchen, carrying what seemed and smelled like a banana cake. “You must be Mary.” You smile.

 

She gives you one in return, as she sets the cake over the counter. “That’ll be me, sweetcakes.” She says, and you feel Sebastian’s eyes on you. Not turning, you continue.

 

“Yeah. I, uh, just got my car done in the garage? I was told that I was supposed to pay up here?” 

 

“Oh yeah, Richard does hate taking money, grease hands and all.” She says, going around and out from behind the counter to set the cake slice right in front of Sebastian who sighs his complaint.

 

“Mary, I can’t possibly—“

 

“Oh hush there, boy. Yes you can, now that you’ve got the girl you’ve been droolin’ over all afternoon.” She smirks, knowing full well what she was doing, regardless if anyone else in the room knew it or not. She turns to you with a look that aid you better do what she says or there’s gonna be a problem. “Now you be a dear and keep the ma company while I go work on your bills. Help yourselves with those on the table, they’re on the house anyway.” She says before bustling out of the room and back into the kitchen. 

 

You stare at the back of Sebastian’s head as he pointedly ignores that you breathe oxygen too and goes back to his game, but perhaps he was still too aware of you being there that he doesn’t manage to win the level he was on, if his under-the-breath cursing was anything to go by. You shake your head to yourself, thinking how ridiculous your set-up with this man has become, that you even had a set-up to begin with, and just pull out a chair for yourself, because Mr. Mood Swings definitely wouldn’t do that for you.

 

Setting him with a new weight of staring that he refuses to acknowledge still, you helped yourself to the fantastically wonderful smelling raspberry pie and moan a little behind your lips once the taste has exploded in your mouth, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. Now this makes the whole dang day better.

 

xxx

 

Sebastian, on his behalf, was sure that he had enough of a brain to pointedly ignore the existence of a certain someone in the room, and no, Mary was wrong, he wasn’t drooling over her all afternoon. 

 

But then she moans and his head whips up so fast he thinks his neck joint pops a little. He spots the raspberry pie in her hands and smiles a little. It definitely was pretty good pie. He tells her this much.

 

She opens up her eyes, realizing she was being spoken to, before fixing him with a flat stare. “I’m still mad at you.” She says and Sebastian was astounded by the audacity this woman had.

 

“’Still mad at me’!?” he scoffs. “You’re the one who popped pills while driving and almost ran a fuckin’ moose over!” he goes off, unable to control the disbelief in his voice. Okay, maybe he was tired, sue him.

 

Shotgun Suzie just throws her head back with a groan, exposing the smooth length of her neck, still glimmering from the residual sheen of sweat from earlier, and the humidity even in the diner. Sebastian’s brain gets sidetracked again as he wonders how much pressure he’d have to put if he ever sank his teeth down on the smooth flesh—

 

“… and I’m surprised, if I’m to be honest, when you ended up like the people who fucking shoot first and asks the corpses questions later.” He hadn’t realized Shotgun Suzie was griping back at her, until she rose from her seat, leaving her pie just a little less than finished and marched towards the counter before calling out. “Mary! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get somewhere early tomorrow, so I gotta go now!”

 

It was then that Sebastian pieced together what she’d said to him, and yeah, he really did shoot first before asking. He should have asked, goddamn it. And not just because he was in the middle of nowhere, and his only promise to return to a more modern era was via the mechanic’s truck, which would be a tomorrow thing, rather than a now thing, and as much as he didn’t want to go off challenging the darkness the sunset had to offer, he didn’t want to stay in this town for some reason, but also because he caused her to be bummed out over the fact she’d gone and helped someone and all she got in return was shit.

 

Well, he does feel like shit now.

 

“Uh,” he started as she impatiently tapped her fingers over the counter.

 

“No. Just shut up.” She cuts him off, and he runs both hands down his face.

 

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just—I panicked okay? It just looked like one whirlwind after another, okay? Plus, you lectured me about strangers.”

 

Shotgun Suzie looked at him, unimpressed, before turning her back onto him and marching right past the counter.

 

Well there goes his ride, in the very least.

 

He sighs as he folds up the newspaper he’d been reading and tucks his phone away into his pocket, pulling out his wallet to pay for his meals. He notices movement and turn to see Shotgun Suzie backing away from the entryway of the kitchen, face ashen. Faster than he thought he could, Sebastian gets up and comes up next to her, gripping her arm worriedly. “Hey, what the hell happened?” he asks, watching her face slowly regain colour, and her eyes start going a little frantic. 

 

“We have to go.” She tells him, and it only confuses the actor, turning his head to get a glimpse of the kitchen’s interior. She grabs his face, forcing him to look at her. To anyone else seeing them, it would have passed as a romantic scene meant for the movies, if not for the buzz of worry under her touch.

 

“What’s going on?” he tries again.

 

“These people are waaay off their rocker, Bash, nutso loco. We need to get. Out. Of. Here.” 

 

Sebastian would have smiled at the nickname she’d given, if not for the look of batshit crazy she was wearing. So he squeezes her hand in reassurance, before turning and looking into the kitchen himself.

 

Bad.

 

Bad, bad, bad, bad idea.

 

Sebastian swore that from that moment on, he would always fucking listen to Shotgun Suzie.

 

Because inside the kitchen hung various innards, that would have been innocuous enough to pass as animal innards, except for the bloody motherfucking human head hanging up beside them. The kitchen smelled, he swiftly realizes, all too sour with the rawness of blood and flesh that he deduces no, that isn’t a fucking prop. He turns his head to the side, since he had enough of a brain to not stick his head in through the entryway but close enough to see, or in this case, hear, something.

 

“You sure they’re a couple? Picked the girl up couple miles back, alone.” Says a voice he didn’t recognize, but assumed was the mechanic.

 

“I think they had a fight or somethin’, but they’re together alright.” That was Mary, shit that was Mary.

 

“You think the Forest Guards are gonna accept ‘em?” another voice he hasn’t heard asks.

 

“’Course they will. They aren’t choosy, ya moron. As long as it’s a guy and a girl, that’s all they need. I already called the twins, they’re gonna pick ‘em soon.”

 

Aaaaaaand Sebastian’s heard enough. Whatever this was, he didn’t sign up for this, and obviously, neither did his companion.

 

“Yup, yep, we’re going.” He says hastily, taking her by the hand and ducking away from the kitchen, grabbing his shit along the way

 

Shotgun Suzie kept quiet as they raced towards the door and Sebastian flung it open.

 

“Tell me you’ve got your keys.” He says, almost like a prayer before they come across the gruffest looking men he’s seen in all his life. And mind you, he’s seen a lot of gruff looking men. Their features held identical scowls and scars he didn’t want to bother thinking about, because his eyes are drawn to the bat and sacks they held. 

 

“I’ve got my keys.” Shotgun Suzie all but whispers as they backed away from the two hoodlums, noticing that the people who lived in the village were now beginning to litter the street, and it made Sebastian feel a little more queasy.

 

“Go.” He tells her, smiling stiffly at the men. “Heya, boys.” He greets as Shotgun Suzie disappears into the garage. “Me and my gal made up, thanks to your fantastic pies,” he says, hearing the engine rev, just as Mary, the mechanic, and who seems to be the town’s sheriff come out of the diner.

 

“What seems to be the problem dear?” Mary spoke, still sweet, but the look in her eyes told otherwise.

 

Oh, and the machete she had in her hands.

 

“Hi, Mary.” Sebastian says, leveling his voice. Damn, he should get a Grammy with how well he’s playing cool right now. “We left money on the table, didn’t wanna bother you with good byes and all that.”

 

Mary smiles tight, nodding at the twins who started to move forward, right at him. “Well now, that’s a shame, boy. I had a lot more cooking for ya,” she said, and just before the twins landed a surely crushing grip on you, you hear a screech of wheels and honking so incessant that everyone coming for him backed the hell up as Shotgun Suzie’s Impala raced backwards, almost hitting him.

 

“GET INSIDE!” he hears her scream, and he doesn’t need to be told twice, throwing is bags right into the passenger seat with him in his panicked race, slamming the door just as one of the henchmen twins came pounding at the window.

 

Before he could think, Shotgun Suzie steps on the gas, honking as she went, screaming even if they wouldn’t hear. “Excuse us! Cause I ain’t stoppin’, even if it killed you!” followed by class A shriek when a gunshot rings from behind and probably hit her car’s bumper.

 

Sebastian could only shove his luggage into the back seat as he held onto the upholstery for dear life while Shotgun Suzie drove them out of Crazytown, Colorado, and cursed like a sailor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest this wasn't going to be as 'chaotic' as it turned out to be, but I had to make an excuse to make the reader sweat for some reason and every other scene in my head felt too cliche and I'm like, naaaaah. So yeah. There you go.
> 
> Hope this chapter was up to par, regardless of my slugged out noggin, and kudos and comment if you wanna. ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌
> 
> All the sarcastic love,  
> ~The Wolf


	3. KANSAS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to actually finish this fic before IW premiered but my work got in the way and basically being an adult is a trap, don't do it. 
> 
> !!! Unedited, jus me n my noggin makin wordz

"We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us.” 

 

×××

Sebastian looked absolutely spooked, like a cat you'd gone and snuck up on, pressed against the now very reassuring interior of the Chevy driven by the woman he told not too long ago that he'd rather risk his life elsewhere than end up with her again.

 

Boy, was he a class A dipshit.

 

Once they've hit the highway again, Shotgun Suzie turned on the radio a little too loud, making them both jump. "She's So High" by Tal Bachman blares in the car as they laugh awkwardly at tthemselve, the woman lowering the volume down than shutting it off completely to fill the space with sound rather than the now-easing fear for their lives.

 

"Was that real?" Sebastian finds himself asking the windshield than his companion, still astounded with disbelief.

 

"Did you... Smell the kitchen?" She asks in return, as if unsure if she should even ask.

 

Reimagining the scene in the kitchen, of blood stained floors, of the countertop beside the oven showing signs of being over-wiped by a strong cleaner, of the innards haphazardly dangling from hooks overhead, and of, fuck, even the faintest whiff of the scent of it all, made Sebastian gag offhandedly and had to turn away and swallow thickly. "Oh god," he groans to himself. "Yeah, fuck, I did." 

 

Shotgun Suzie breathes shakily and briefly adjusts her grip on the steering wheel, the sun overhead making its descent to rise over a different city, before speaking. "It was real." 

 

"You think we should tell on them?" Sebastian asks, suddenly realizing that they may not have been the only ones who ended up in the desolation of that town, nor were they possibly be the last ones if they didn't do anything about it. 

 

Shotgun Suzie seemed like she already planned ahead. "Probably when we get out of the state? Call someone you know to call what, cops? For us, or maybe someone to check it out. You're famous, they'd at least listen to you,  or you can charm an investigation into place. But only when we're in a different state, because to be honest with you," she chuckles through an exhale. "I kinda peed myself a little there, and I don't need a Fast and Furious scene right now."

 

With that, Sebastian agrees before relaxing into his seat as the night finally spread through the sky, hollowing out the deep oranges and pinks of the sky into purples and a deep navy blue. He starts falling asleep not long after a Jesse McCartney song's first chorus,  mildly surprised Shotgun Suzie even cared for this kind of music.  But then again he should know by now that she was a bag full of surprises and nothing about her will ever be as they seem. With the adrenaline having left his body with little energy for more than a grateful glance at his driver, Sebastian was out like a light. 

 

×××

 

It was the exhaustion that hit them after something over nine hours on the road, having only stopped to gas up, switch seats, and for bathroom breaks because they'd been too shaken up that what had happened back in Colorado actually happened, that finally forced them to stop at an orchard somewhere just around Emporia, Kansas.

 

That, and Sebastian ramming Shotgun Suzie's car right into an apple tree.

 

The woman in question had been asleep on the passenger seat, and as Sebastian learned quite easily, she was pretty much a generous driver after having driven most of their nine hours and that waking her for a stop or a switch wasn't going to take much effort, but he might as well have dumped cold water on her face when he'd finally forced them to stop at what seemed like an orchard by hitting a large apple tree head first, feeling his seatbelt choke the air out of his lungs as he flung forward before being thrown back onto the driver's seat. With arms stiff as steel rods while his knuckles turned white while he gripped the steering wheel for dear life, he slowly turns his head to look at what had happened to his companion. 

 

She looked like she'd seen a legion of ghosts fly by in front of her very eyes as she sat stock still like a mummy preserved on her faux leather upholstery. "Bash," she says slowly and the man gulps as he looked back at the smoking hood of the Impala.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You could have woken me up and we could have stopped, babe." She says and really, Sebastian felt like he was gonna piss himself. If he was afraid of the 5 foot something badass beside him, no one had to know.

 

"I'm sorry," he says, and Shotgun Suzie finally turns to him with a blank face.

 

"If you destroyed some holy tree in another crazed up town in the middle of another state neither of us are familiar with, I. Am. Leaving. You." She says, before undoing her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

 

Sebastian could not spot the shotgun he knew she had stashed somewhere within the confines of the car, but he was grateful she hasn't pulled it out nonetheless. Shotgun Suzie seemed capable enough to pull a flamethrower out of thin air, so he knew it was the world having mercy on him.

 

But he thinks he spoke too soon.

 

Because by the time he followed suit, and stepped out of the Impala, the girl was trying so hard to rein in her anger. "You could have woken me," she repeats, gritting her teeth.

 

"Babe, look, I'm really sor—" and in a blink, she climbs over the ruined hood of her car, and he swears she flew at him, grabbing the front of his shirt and coming up so close he could smell her; tangy with sweat and some fruity perfume that he decidedly likes, and the chocolate milk going stale on her tongue. He knows he shouldn't be scenting her when there's death in her eyes, but what could he do when she's this close?

 

When she raises her left fist though, he realizes what he has to do, and that's to shield himself. "Man, sorry doesn't cut half the shit you got me in," she growls, and just before she got to throw the punch that he didn't bother trying to stop, a light falls on them, followed by a voice with an accent.

 

"Woah, there missy!" It said, tearing their attention from each other and towards the light source, that ended up being a flashlight they both squinted at until it was pulled away from their line of sight. "What happened to ya kids?" It was an elderly man, obviously a farmer. 

 

Shotgun Suzie doesn't speak for a beat, before releasing Sebastian roughly, then finally turning towards the man. "I'm sorry," she says before running her hands through her hair. "He'll tell you what happened." She says, throwing her thumb his way, before turning away to check on how far the damage went.

 

The farmer, or whatever the hell the dude was, was surely taken aback by the polite brashness of the girl, and turns questioningly at Sebastian, who sheepishly raises his hands in surrender lest this newfound company stashed a gun somewhere like his driver or was from another Crazytown just like the one they'd so vigilantly evaded.

 

Not so vigilant, on Sebastian's part though.

 

"We were driving through Colorado, road trip," he starts, and the elderly man seemed to grasp the idea fairly well, if not exceedingly so. "Then we ended up in this cuckoo hotspot, and made a run for it." He says, then he senses the doubt that was rising from behind the man's kind looking eyes, so he quickly follows this up with "I swear we didn't do anything wrong," and turns when there's a sudden loud noise behind him, obviously having gotten the farmer's attention as well as he turned the gaze of the flashlight towards Shotgun Suzie who, by some super power, unhitched the scrunched up bumper of the Impala that had embedded itself into the trunk of the old apple tree, leaving an angry carving into it, and an even angrier expression on her particularly pretty face. Shotgun Suzie looks up and glares beyond the flashlight, right at him.

 

"What?" She growls and Sebastian shakes his head furiously before quickly turning towards the man again.

 

"What I'm trying to say sir," he quips, pressured to at least help his companion especially because their current discomfort was his fault completely now (because the previous ones were basically just his fault by halves). "Is that I was driving and she had to nap and we've driven for hours and haven't made a proper stop. I fell asleep or lost concentration and hit your apple tree with our car. I'm so very sorry, really we are, and I hope we haven't disturbed any dieties or tradition of any sort," he shivers at the idea of being part of a sacrificial ritual (really, events that make your adrenaline spike aren't easy to get over). He breathes deep and glances back at his driver, stressing over her poor car. Sebastian knows that there's no way they'll manage to drive out of Kansas tonight, not with the car's current state, so as much as he wants to just shoo off the man in case he was more trouble, he actually needed all the help he could get. "And as much as we don't wanna cause any more trouble than we already are doing—" 

 

"You're the only idiot causing trouble here," Shotgun Suzie grumbles loud enough for him to hear as she disappeared to crouch down to the ground, disappearing behind the car.

 

Sebastian looks up to the heavens, before sighing and continuing. "We need a place to crash, we're willing to pay, and work for what we've fucked up. So if you could offer a little help sir, that will be more than enough."

 

The man laughs as though it were the most ridiculous request he's ever heard, shakes his head to himself before tilting his head towards what seemed to be a fairly large house beyond the trees filling the acres around it. "C'mon boy, stop your babblin' and get your things. I don't wanna see ya get killed by your girlfriend. That'd be bad for our business, y'see?" He says mirthfully.

 

×××

 

You made Sebastian carry all your things himself, opting not to speak too much to bring you away from giving him a verbal ravaging that no one had to witness right now, no matter how badly you itched to do it. So you walk behind both men, your uncle's shotgun slung over your shoulder because as much as you didn't want to shoot at anybody any time soon, you'd rather not have just running as your only option if Old Man Jenkins ended up being as loose-screwed as the folks you'd met in Colorado. Sebastian turns his to check if you're still following him and his eyes kept fucking twinkling like blue gems from the light of the heavy moon overhead and you keep glaring at him in return every time, killing whatever sordid idea of small-talk he had in mind. He was still handsome even with the sweat beading over his brows, and you were still mad at him, so there's that.

 

"Anna!" The old man calls into the opened house, as a kid of maybe seven runs down the hall of the doorway, chasing after a fat Beagle. "You two better not make a mess!" The old man calls after them and as much as you'd want to keep yourself on high alert, a fatass Beagle and a little boy running around weren't exactly psycho red flags, and you relax. 

 

"Quit your yellin' old geezer! I can still hear better than you!" A voice calls from upstairs before being embodied by a lady that looked like a 1940's model, even donning a simple hairdo from the years back. "Oh what do we have here?" She says, spotting you and Sebastian, which wasn't hard to do; what, with his height and unfathomable good looks and the menacing shotgun slung around you. Perfect couple really, definitely not intimidating or anything like that.

 

"They were goin' honeymoonin'," the man replies for you and even as your nose twitches at the falsity, there wasn't a fight left much in you. The little boy breaks into a fit of laughter in the other room, and Anna smiles warmly as she looks at the entryway to it. 

 

"Well," she says and comes closer, assessing you both. "I take it you two have no idea where you've been or where you're goin'?" She asks in an easy drawl that felt like smooth, smooth honey. Wow this lady is damn attractive, and you're not even gay.

 

"And we also slammed our car into one of your trees," Sebastian admits quickly, which surprises Anna mildly, just as the little boy runs out with another one looking just like him, but only this time, said other boy wore a blue shirt against the other's red one. They're being chased by the fatass Beagle still, and then another lookalike ran behind the dog, this one donning a yellow shirt.

 

"Huh, triplets." You say, amazed. Anna wore a proud look on her face as she stepped into her husband's one armed embrace and smiles.

 

"They're quite the works, dear." She grins before pointing up the stairs. "Third room, left. Has a bathroom, a bed, enough space for your things. You can help out in the orchard for as long as it takes to fix your car, and the room's yours until then." She says and you regard them properly this time.

 

"Ma'am, that's... That's so much, thank you," you stammer, surprised by the hospitality, and the fact that they aren't even put off by your obvious display of defense. "And I'm sorry for being rude, but you're not nuts, right?" And may your mother forgive you for asking this so blatantly.

 

The farmer cracks a knowing smirk while Anna laughs good-humouredly. "Dear, you aren't the first ones who ended up 'round here not knowing where to go. And you're definitely not the worst. Now go, shower, dinner will be done in a bit." 

 

You smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt and you'd have hugged them if you didn't have the gun slung around you, but before you could give them a verbal version of a hug, Anna holds up a hand and makes a shooing motion, which you happily oblige with because you're not going to resist this kind of kindness.

 

Obeying orders, you and Sebastian walk wordlessly towards the landing of the stairs and you make a gesture for him to go first, but he shakes his head briefly before making a duck face, signalling you to go ahead. You roll your eyes as you did anyway, commenting as you climbed. "You just wanna stare at my ass."

 

You almost miss a step when he replies. 

 

"So what if I do?"

 

×××

 

It just slipped out, okay?

 

Sebastian hadn't meant to make the comment but his brain had been too busy trying to make sure that the bag he was holding in his left hand stayed where it was while the other one he balanced between the squeeze of his arm and body didn't drop on the floor as his right hand was occupied at the moment with her heavy duffel bag, so he lost his brain to mouth filter for a quick second and the words just came out. They weren't exactly false, but they weren't meant to be said out loud neither. But he schools his features flat enough for Shotgun Suzie not to notice his moment of alarm when she turns her head to narrow her eyes at him before she goes back to swaying her hips as she climbed up the stairs.

 

Okay, so maybe he has been wanting to watch her ass get into action, you can't blame him... Okay maybe you can, but he swears he's not being rude. As Anthony once told him: 'As long as you're appreciatin' and not disrespectin', it ain't harassment. But it also helps not to get caught red-handed, y'know what I mean?' So call it male rationale, or whatever the hell Scarlett said it was, he was innocent until proven guilty. And really, if this climb keeps up, he'd be found guilty soon because dat ass tho. It wasn't even the biggest he's seen, the plumpest, the roundest, or whatever ranking it is people gave asses to assess them (see what he did there?), but there was something about it being wrapped in fantastic jeans that distracted him so very well. He wonders if they would overfill his hands if he gave the cheeks a squeeze they deserved—

 

Woah, hold the fuck up,  Sebastian Stan. The hell did he think he was doing? Even he was surprised at the road his thoughts had turned to and if he didn't pull the rein on them he's gonna find himself in a very awkwa— "Oof!" He hears her before he realizes that he'd run out of steps to climb and knocked over his companion, effectively making her drop face first onto the hardwood floor, just beneath him and their luggage that he'd also dropped at the sudden jolt of losing his footing. Luckily he didn't completely crush her beneath his weight, forearms holding his upper body over her's while their lower halves unfortunately ended up pressed together. 

 

"Shit," he hisses to himself before scrambling off of her, already preparing himself for what she's gonna do to him. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I—" he stammers as he recollected their belongings and crouched on a step lower, where Shotgun Suzie remained down like a soldier shot. Or a woman who's had enough of his shit. Whichever way you wanna see it.

 

"Put a fucking cork in it, man." She grumbles from her spot. "I don't even wanna hear whatever the hell it is you're gonna say. I'm just tired and I wanna kill you and I can't do that right now." Then she pushes herself up on all fours, gets to her feet and walks towards where they were instructed to go, opens the door, flicks on the lights, and she groans so loud, it makes the farmer's voice ring from downstairs.

 

"I prefer you kids to not do the deed right now!" And Shotgun Suzie's eyes widen when she realizes what she'd done, cheeks going cherry red, and fuck that's so attractive, Sebastian thinks to himself. "It's dinnertime, reserve it for later!"

 

Despite himself, Sebastian laughs as he set the bags down, by the foot of the offending single queen sized bed that was the reason for his driver's groan of complaint. "We aren't, sir" he calls back to them, closing the door behind him only to be met by a pair of dark death rays.

 

"I absolutely hate you." She says and leaves him standing in the middle of the room, before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

He sighs to himself, it was going to be a long, long night.

 

×××

 

Dinner was...  Impeccable.  

 

You never had this kind of luck in the couple months you've been on the road and you're mildly annoyed that of course this kind of dinner only came with Sebastian Stan. 

 

Your current hosts, Anna and Fredrick "Fred" Luv,  were the fourth generation owners of a fairly large orchard in town and were currently babysitting their three grandchildren,  Cornelius (in red),  Atlas (in blue),  and Vlademir (in yellow),  who made sure to tell you that they wished to be called Lewis,  A,  and Vlad respectively.  Of course you'd agreed,  saying "Why yes,  what else should anyone call you?"

 

Apparently,  these children took to having their autonomy honored quite a lot and your response allowed you to charm their pants off enough that they argued who got to sit next to you,  effectively extracting Sebastian from your side. Even Newton the Beagle seemed to adore you, already curled around your feet whenever he gets the chance.

 

Lewis and Vlad win side seats while the witty little A garnered a lap seat by simply looking at his smug brothers before climbing into your lap.  Fairness seemed to be well-acquainted with the boys as they chose to let it be,  though Anna tried to coax them off of you. 

 

"Boys!  Give the lady some space!" She'd gone and scolded them as Sebastian helped her put the hefty looking chicken on the table,  smirking as he watched you try to juggle the attention of three seven-year-olds. 

 

"It's fine," You assured her,  nodding enthusiastically at the story A was relaying to you.  

 

"At least take a seat,  Atlas.  Let 'er eat in peace,  boy." Fred laughed as Anna sighed and took a seat.  Since you were flanked by the boys on all sides,  Sebastian opted to sit on the opposite end of the table across from Fred.  You looked up as he sat and dinner begun with him having tried to serve you some mashed potatoes. He smiles warmly and you tampered down on the blush of flattery and opted to roll your eyes.  

 

Sebastian didn't manage to complete your full serving of mashed potatoes though, as a pair of small hands took the bowl from him and another went and finished the service.  "Gravy?" Lewis asks from your left once Vlad and A scooped what was deemed enough of the potatoes.  Anna and Fred laugh as they watched the boys pointedly ignore that Sebastian existed and instead went to offer you everything on the table and served you shares of each (with your help of course). You laugh as Sebastian was left out of the boys' dinnertime plans,  and you sympathetically sent him flying kisses to appease his ignored presence,  which he took sulkily. 

 

As aforementioned, it was an impeccable dinner. 

 

×××

 

It seemed like an unspoken agreement that it was your turn to help in the kitchen and as much as the boys wanted to make a beeline towards you,  Fred told them they had free rein on the TV until 10 that night and surely they wouldn't want to miss that kind of opportunity. 

 

The boys were undoubtedly torn,  wanting to spend more time with you but the temptation of TV was equally powerful.  Sebastian watched in impressed amusement as you manage to effortlessly curb the boys' choice with a promise of joining them after the dishes and kisses to their foreheads. He wonders briefly if there was anything you couldn't do.  Once he followed the littles ones to the sofa and Fred handed him a beer as he settled into his chair,  he doubts there was a lot that you couldn't do. 

 

"Grampa," One of the boys spoke,  he thinks it could be the one called Atlas,  but he'd been in the kitchen helping with the last of the dessert before the premise of dinner that he failed to concentrate who was in the yellow shirt.  "Can we watch this one again?" He asks,  raising a Blu-Ray copy of a superhero movie,  if he were to judge from the blues and reds all over the cover though the distance from his seat to the kid and the dimmed light in the room offered no help for his vision in discerning what the title was. 

 

Fred grabs hold of the copy and mulls over it briefly,  turning to look at the kitchen where you and Anna were busy cleaning and laughing among yourselves.  He regards the boys while they put puppy eyes on,  and scratches his beard before leaning down conspiratorially.  "Start now,  so your nan can't stop us since we'll be halfway when she finishes." With a wink and quiet cheer from his lot,  the CD was fed into the player and Sebastian almost snorts his beer as the kids sat in a short row on the floor,  Captain America:  The First Avenger beginning to play on the screen.  

 

Sebastian shifts in his spot on the sofa and clears his throat before taking a swig of the beer, shifting in his seat,  wondering whether or not he'd be recognized.  He didn't worry much about it,  just curious how everyone would react. Fred catches his squirming and the old man snorts,  drinking his beer as he kept his eyes on the screen. "I remember when I was that hot for her, " He mumbles low,  but enough for Sebastian to get the gist,  making him blush furiously, cough loudly,  and the farmer to bust out a laugh that the triplets went to shushing quickly. 

 

The first one who seemed to notice was the boy in the red shirt (god,  Sebastian just can't get a grip on names).  He turned just as Steve and Bucky got into the convention.  The little boy squinted at him and he tries to ignore him,  but then another pair of eyes land on him,  then they seem to switch from the TV to his face,  back and forth,  until he succumbs and looks down,  smiling a little and raising a brow.  The kid in the yellow shirt seemed to catch on that his brothers were busy with something else and turned to see this object of interest, and his jaw drops when his brain makes the connections. 

 

"You're—! " He says a little too loudly,  making his brothers shush him immediately,  everyone turning to see their grandfather asleep on his chair. 

 

"You're Bucky Barnes!" They hiss in excitement, the movie playing now pushed to the background while they stared at Sebastian in awe. 

 

"We saw all the Marvel Movies!" The boy he thinks is the one you called Vlad says,  getting up and sitting on his left,  clearly enamoured. "Mom loves action movies,  but dad keeps saying they're too violent. " He rolls his eyes. 

 

"Just like Nan." Dude in the yellow shirt says and gets up too,  sitting on his right.

 

"But you're Bucky right?" The one in the red shirt says,  wordlessly getting on his lap like he owned it.  Sebastian didn't mind and simply smiles.  "Like Winter Soldier-Bucky?" He asks,  just to make sure. 

 

Sebastian finally nods,  gaining an even more revered air around him from the triplets.  

 

The rest of the film was spent with various questions ranging from 'Where's your metal arm?' to 'Do the Avengers know you have a girlfriend?' (as it seems the Luv family was set on the idea you were Sebastian's  significant other) and of course the Romanian man graciously answered them all.  By the time he'd finished his beer,  he'd gone through a lot of on-set stories and was telling them how he put the metal arm on. 

 

This is how you find them,  knee-deep in conversation as the last fourth of the movie played in the background.  Anna raises a surprised brow at the sight,  clearly amazed by whatever intriguing story he was regaling the triplets with that they lost interest in a superhero movie. 

 

She tells you as much and you look away from the sofa only to laugh lightly at the movie playing on the screen.  Of course.  

 

Noticing how Anna was waiting for an explanation you so clearly had,  you smile and gesture at the movie.  "He likes Marvel too." You say.  It was a safe answer,  and didn't put Sebastian's desire to be anonymous,  if he wanted to,  on the line so win-win. 

 

You both join them in the living room,  Anna making a beeline to her husband to rouse him enough to get him up and off his seat and up to their room.  The older lady mouths that she'll be back for the boys before they disappear beyond the staircase.  Once seated,  the boys look at you with joyous excitement.  "He's Bucky Barnes!" Vlad cheers,  standing up on the sofa and beginning to bounce. 

 

"He's the Winter Soldier! " A seconds,  clenching his fists and pulling them into his body repeatedly.  

 

"Super cool," Lewis comments,  grinning lopsidedly as he looked up at your handsome companion.  

 

You had to agree,  he really was. Even if he currently looked like a smug bastard. 

 

×××

 

"Okay kids.  Harvestin' honey's pretty easy.  Ya'll just gotta smoke the hive to make the bees go down beyond the super," Fred says as he puts the nozzle of the smoking gear or whatever the hell you called it, into the closest hive. You wait in silence with the only sounds coming from the buzz in the hives surrounding us and the lives up in the trees around.

 

It takes a bit before he says, "Open this baby up," whipping out a small crowbar-like tool and begins to pry the inner cover off the hive. "When ya'll get strays like these," He says, gesturing to the few bees that didn't seem hindered by the smoking. "Just swipe at them gently with the brushes, and they'll be off y'er frames in a jiff." The he goes and grabs the frames, continuing to speak as he did so. "Be careful not to shake up them bees cause though they're pretty much stuck at the bottom,  you don't wanna take y'er chances." He then transfers the frames into an awaiting bin,  and finishes with a flourish. "Just put 'em in the bin and take 'em in. Scrape the wax caps off,  toss em in the extractor.  By the time you do that,  Anna's gonna be done with whatever she's doin' and she'll take it from there. Y'got that?"

 

Uh, no. No you did not get most of that.  

 

Currently you're out in the honey farm area of the place and was donning a full bee suit,  holding onto some kind of brush for shooing bees away from their hives.  Sebastian looked as worried as your felt as you got a crash course on how to harvest honey and you're pretty much in doubt of how good either of you were gonna be doing with this job. 

 

You're hailed out from your little mental breakdown when Fred speaks again. "I'm gonna leave this to ya now,  and I'm gonna check on the rest of the fields.  Y'er car's been towed to the nearest mechanic and they said it'll be fixed in three days." 

 

You thank him,  of course,  hopeful and happy that you didn't need to worry about how you're going to fix your injured child, and sigh to gear yourself up to the task at hand once he leaves the two of you. 

 

×××

 

Sebastian wasn't exactly afraid of bees,  but with the constant buzzing around you and the stray stripped bug butt randomly swooping by his ears,  he's gotten pretty antsy after your first attempt at harvesting the next hive at hand.  Which wasn't easy,  to tell you the truth. 

 

You both agreed to alternate tasks just for the hell of it,  and the first chance to lift the lid was his.  And maybe he got surprised by a rogue bee that charged right at him and maybe he dropped the cover back down onto the hive and maybe you had to grab the hive with a full-body hug to keep it from tumbling over and spilling angry bees everywhere.  But that was all,  y'know,  hypothetical. 

 

So the next go at lifting the lid went to your hands,  and it seemed you two had to get a grip at smoking the hives better or at least leaving it for longer because this one opened to a couple more rogue bees that took it upon themselves to buzz around your heads angrily.  Sebastian absent mindedly steps forward and nudges you behind him and begins to swat at the bees with the bee brush, making you snort in amusement behind him.

 

"My hero," You chide, nudging his shoulder back as you stepped to his side and shooed the stingy bummed bugs away from the both of you. 

 

He rolls his eyes and play pouts as he replies. "I could do without the sarcasm. "

 

He heard you snort again and he wonders if he's ever going to get a word in that you won't so easily smack down. "Can I get you without the attractiveness and unconscious kindness? No. You hear me complaining? No. Now shut up and harvest honey. "

 

Sebastian tries with all his might to fight the flattered grin that threatened to split his face in half as you turned your attention back to grabbing the frames out of the hive, succeeding only slightly before he comes up behind you to bump his bee suit 'helmet' with yours. "Sure thing,  honey."

 

After ten more hives,  one sprinting away from bees from a hive you accidentally knocked over, some clean up work, and honey extraction and bottling,  the day's events end with only a couple of stings and homemade frozen yoghurt (with honey)  for dessert while you two act as the couch cushion for one boy each while the third was happy enough to be cuddled in between. 

 

Sebastian whines about not being able to have you all to himself, while the boys shush him as the Winter Soldier starts shooting at Cap in the screen. You give him a flying kiss and he catches it before smushing his face into his palm in a disgusting display of affection and it earn's him Fred's rolled up newspaper to the head.

 

You pretend like you're not getting your pants charmed off. 

 

You're pretending you still even have aforementioned garment. 

 

You don't even think you still have undies on at this point. 

 

You are so fucked. 

 

×××

 

The first night wasn't all that hard sleeping through seeing as you were both too tired to worry about whether or not you'd be sharing the bed.  But tonight was a little more awkward seeing as you two had more time of clarity before the exhaustion starts anchoring you down onto the mattress. 

 

You'd gone and popped your pills as Sebastian showered,  being a little more discreet made it seem as though you were doing something wrong but you were also saving the both of you from the discomfort of the conversation as to why you had to take them so it made it a little easier to do. When he emerges with a little bit of steam tailing him from the background,  you let out a quick wolf whistle and laugh at his surprised expression.  You continue to slather your face with your nighttime routine (because as un-fretful as you are,  you didn't want to look crusty) while he got dressed behind you.  Resisting the urge to turn and take a peek wasn't easy but you manage, because come on,  Y/N,  that's rude.  Regardless of how hot he is. 

 

"If I did that to you,  you'd have smacked me all the way to New York." He laughs,  making his way back around to the side of the bed where you sat,  while the open window allowed a cool breeze into the otherwise warm room. 

 

"Stop pretending as if you haven't spent most of our time together staring at my ass." You quip back as you brushed your hair. 

 

Sebastian huffs good-humouredly,  laying down on the bed and folding his arms behind his head, long legs dangling from the side of the bed and feet flat on the floor, while you turned on the radio to an FM station that was currently playing 'Hey Ya' by Outkast. "You're crazy. "

 

"Yeah,  crazy beautiful." 

 

"Yeah." He agrees and you stop your brushing and look out the window,  right at the bright moon hanging in the sky. 

 

"You wanna sleep on the floor tonight?" You offer and he laughs and you swear your stomach just did an Olympic-standard somersault. 

 

"Sure,  if you cuddle me."

 

You sleep on the bed again that night,  backs to each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed my shitty-ass self indulgent mess. 
> 
> Feedback is always well enjoyed!


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